


Leg Day

by thevault



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, M/M, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 02:08:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20592923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevault/pseuds/thevault
Summary: Fiona finally convinces Rhys to get a gym membership, even though he's absolutely dreading it.  That is, until Rhys gets an eyeful of the hunky stranger crowding the free weights with all his loud, muscular friends.





	Leg Day

**Author's Note:**

> This wonderful idea is courtesy of @cannibalspaghet on twitter!! I saw them tweet this amazing idea and was immediately obsessed with it and had to write it! I hope I did their idea justice :)
> 
> Edit: Here's the original tweet for those of you who don't have twitter!  
@cannibalspaghet "why aren’t there any fics where fiona takes rhys to the gym for the first time and he keeps checking out the hot older guy in a big group of friends that are all yelling and lifting weights, only for jack to follow rhys into the locker room and fuck him up against it, huh; i want jack (and his god damn arms) to be so fuckin strong like strong enough to hold rhys up with one arm and rail him so hard he hits his head on the lockers and gets a fucking concussion"

“_Ugh_, I already hate being here.”

“We literally just walked through the door, stop complaining.”

Rhys frowned as he leaned up against the front desk, Fiona at his side. They were currently at the local gym, ready to sign Rhys up for his very first ever gym membership. Fiona had insisted he needed it after very rudely saying that his ‘shitty eating habits’ were going to catch up to him and that he wouldn’t be able to stay ‘skinny forever’ unless he did something about it. He felt personally attacked, honestly. Fiona had been pestering him about it for a while now, it just wasn’t until recently that Rhys started getting paranoid about it (he was pretty sure that was Fiona’s plan all along). So here he was, very reluctantly signing a gym contract that was going to cost him _way_ too much money; seriously, fifty dollars a month?!

Fiona had insisted on _this_ particular gym, even though there were cheaper ones in the area. She picked this one because it was where she went, that way she would be able to hold Rhys more accountable by making him go whenever she did. He already made it very clear that he was _not_ going to be following Fiona’s very strict five-day-a-week schedule and that she’d be lucky if he got him to go twice a week. They shook on it, as a compromise, and now this was Rhys’ life after work two days a week.

Rhys signed his contract, took a picture for his badge, and gave the woman behind the counter his credit card. It was set up to deduct automatically every month with a minimum of one year, which was absolutely ridiculous. Initially, Rhys had no intentions of even pursuing this for more than a few months, but if he was roped in to a year lest he pay a ridiculous cancellation fee than he was going to get his money’s worth.

“Do you need a tour?” The bubbly blonde behind the counter asked as she handed Rhys his credit card back, to which he took begrudgingly. _Fifty dollars a month!_

“Nah, that’s alright, Melissa. I’ll show him around,” Fiona answered for him, and of _course_ she knew everyone who worked there by name. Damn gym rat. “Come on, Rhys, locker room’s that way.”

Rhys followed Fiona in the direction of the locker rooms, adjusting the duffel bag on his shoulder. They were both still in their work clothes and needed to change, which even _that_ was super annoying. Rhys ducked into the men’s locker room and crowded himself into one of the changing stalls. He wasn’t quite ready to embrace the super manly gym etiquette of ‘yeah I’m totally cool being naked in front of other dudes because I’m so jacked right now.’

Once Rhys was changed he shoved all of his things into an open locker and secured it with the fancy padlock Fiona had gotten him as a ‘new gym buddy’ gift. After he shot himself with some finger guns in the mirror Rhys headed out of the locker room where Fiona was leaning up against a pillar, waiting. When she caught sight of him her eyebrows instantly shut up to her hairline before her face settled into a scowl.

“What?” Rhys asked, taking a sip from his (also fancy) new water bottle. Everything he had on was brand new, actually. He’d gone on a little shopping spree to prepare for his entrance into gym life, but mostly he’d just never stepped foot in a gym so he had literally no acceptable work out clothes until now.

“Why are your shorts _shorter_ than mine? You’re so embarrassing,” Fiona scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Rhys looked down at himself incredulously, unaware of what was so wrong with his shorts. Yeah, sure, they were definitely… A little shorter than the average pair of men’s shorts. Okay, they were a _lot_ shorter, but Rhys liked the way his butt looked in them, so what if he _technically_ got them from the women’s section?

“I don’t see the problem here,” Rhys said with a shrug, taking another smug sip of his water. They were tiny little black things, a little loose around the thighs but tight around the ass. There was just barely a few extra inches of fabric hanging past his butt, enough so that if he bent over his ass wouldn’t _totally_ be hanging out. If he was going to be forced to go to the gym he was going to look good, damn it, and his legs (and butt) were his best features. He was gonna show them off, damn it.

He had the simple black shorts paired with a tight, racerback tank top. It was blue, to match his ECHOeye, because yes, he _was_ that extra. To top it all off he wore a shiny new pair of sneakers, black with white trim. Rhys thought he looked damn good, it wasn’t his fault Fiona was wearing old shorts she’d got back in college (Rhys was honestly embarrassed to be seen with someone reppin’ Hollow Point U) and a baggy tank top that had definitely been a t-shirt she cut the sleeves off of.

“Whatever, let’s get started.”

The first place Fiona brought him was the free weights, to which he’d actually laughed in her face. Did she really think Rhys was capable of lifting? Actually, scratch that, did she think Rhys was _interested_ in lifting? He wasn’t here to get buff, he wasn’t built like that, he just wanted to tone and make sure all that junk food didn’t go to his ass (or worse, his _gut_).

“You’re kidding, right?” Rhys said on the lilt of a laugh, brushing some loose strands of hair from his face. He really regretted rinsing the gel out of his hair in the sink.

“Uh, no? You do realize what happens at the gym, right?” Fiona was already looking over the weights, presumably trying to figure out what Rhys could handle.

“I thought we were just gonna, like, go on the elliptical and do some squats. Plus, it would be _really_ weird if I had one muscly arm and then… This,” Rhys waved his cybernetic arm casually.

Fiona pursed her lips at him and reluctantly set the weights she’d picked out for him back down on the rack. “_Fine_, but I’m not going to let you just work out your ass every time we come here. There’s other muscle groups, Rhys.”

Just then a loud gaggle of laughter filled the space of the gym, causing Rhys to jump and Fiona to glare over his shoulder. Rhys turned to look at who was making all the noise, unsurprisingly finding a group of men crowded around a few machines and dumbbells. They looked older, ranging anywhere from late thirties to early fifties if he had to guess, so _naturally_ Rhys’ daddy kink took interest. He scanned over the men with curious eyes, very aware that Fiona’s glare had shifted from the talkative group of men to Rhys and his unabashed staring.

One of the guys was _huge_, hair slicked back with neat streaks of white on either side of his head. He had a beard, also with a strangely symmetrical stripe of white down the middle, and a large scar across his right eye. The man was intimidating, to say the least, his biceps almost as thick as Rhys’ entire body. There were a few other burly men to the group varying in size, but all clearly very well acquainted with this part of the gym. One was pulling at a bar to some machine Rhys didn’t know the name of but it appeared to be working out the man’s back, another benching some weights while someone spotted him.

There was one man in the group in particular that caught Rhys’ eye, however. He wasn’t huge like the first guy he’d seen but he wasn’t small, either. He had broad shoulders and a strong-looking chest that Rhys just wanted to fling himself against. His biceps were toned like they were constantly being flexed, but not in that scary, TV-wrestler kind of way. No, he was more like the actors in those superhero movies, perfectly sculpted for the big screen. His forearms were _thick_, and damn if Rhys didn’t want to test out just how strong his arms were. It was clear the man took care of himself, all tan skin and hard edges. _God_, he wondered what kind of six-pack the man was sporting under his t-shirt.

The man had a jaw for _days_, a hard, rigid line that Rhys just wanted to run his tongue over. His grin was cocky, all teeth as he listened to the big guy Rhys had first noticed. Rhys could only see his profile, one mischievously glinting green eye focused on his friend. This man, Rhys noticed, _also_ had a perfect streak of salt-and-pepper through his hair, styled back meticulously. Rhys _really_ appreciated a man who took care of himself.

Suddenly, the man turned towards him, his face set in a way that said, ‘I know something you don’t know.’ Rhys felt his cheeks heat up as their eyes met, realizing that only _one_ of his eyes was green, the other a brilliant blue. The stranger gave him a sly wink that sent a chill up Rhys’ spine, heterochromatic eyes glinting with something dangerous before the man turned back to his friends. Oh yeah, Rhys could get used to coming to the gym.

Rhys was startled from his thoughts by Fiona’s fingers snapping in his face, finally prying his eyes away from the eye candy across the room. “Hello? Earth to Rhys? Can you stop ogling the dad club over there now?”

“Only if you take me to the ellipticals,” Rhys said with a grin, throwing his perfect stranger one last, longing look as he followed Fiona over to the cardio section.

—-

Rhys had tried some small talk with Fiona while they were on the ellipticals, but after three words he was left panting for breath. He hated to admit it but Fiona was right, he was way out of shape. So instead, they opted for silence, Fiona too annoyed with Rhys gasping for breath every two seconds when he tried to talk. He didn’t mind the silence, using Fiona’s concentration on her work out to his advantage. He stole glances of that beautiful man every chance he could, each time hoping that he’d catch him staring back.

Unfortunately, Rhys hadn’t caught the man so much as _glancing_ in his direction. It was a little frustrating, he could have sworn that cheeky wink he’d thrown him was flirtatious, but maybe he was just being friendly. That didn’t stop Rhys from trying to get his attention, though. When they finished with the elliptical Rhys convinced Fiona to do squats with him, and yes, Rhys shamelessly had his back to the man so he could see just what that ass could do. He couldn’t really check to see if he was watching without being too obvious (or without Fiona slapping him), so he just _assumed_ Wonderboy over there was watching.

By the time they were done with their squats Rhys was exhausted. He’d experienced more physical activity than he probably had in his entire life, which was pretty sad, but it really knocked him on his ass. Fiona wasn’t too happy to hear that he was quitting already, but thankfully they’d taken separate cars so she couldn’t trap him there until her routine was over. He promised he’d work on different muscle groups the next time they went, which seemed to be enough to keep Fiona at bay (for now).

Rhys headed into the locker room as he chugged the last bits of his water, absently fanning himself with his free hand. He was hot and sweaty and really damn hungry, he couldn’t wait to just be _home_. He placed his water bottle down on a bench before he started fiddling with the lock on his locker. It took him a few tries to get the combination right, pulling it open with a soft _’click’_. He pulled it open maybe an inch before a massive hand was slamming it shut again, palm splayed out flat against the metal surface.

Rhys eyes went wide in horror as he stared at the large hand before him, bracketing him in on one side. Another soon followed, mismatched eyes tracing over the tattooed wrist attached to the new hand. Was this really happening? Was he about to be beat up in the gym locker room? Could life really be that cliche? Fiona was right, the shorts were too short. His cute, twink butt was too much for all the testosterone pumping through this place.

“Heya, _kitten_,” a sultry, rumbling voice purred in his ear, close enough that Rhys could feel his breath ghosting over his skin and the faint brush of lips against the shell of his ear. He felt a wave of heat rush straight to his groin, arousal prickling at his skin. Rhys turned his head so he could see whoever was invading his space, just barely catching a glimpse of familiar blue and green eyes before the man was nudging at his temple with his noise, keeping his gaze on the lockers.

“You’re a pretty little thing, ain’tcha?” Wow, this man had no right to be so attractive _and_ have the sexiest damn voice Rhys had ever heard. “I saw you, y’know,” the man paused long enough to lick at Rhys’ ear, making him arch, “watching me. Think I didn’t notice?”

Rhys felt a deep blush blossoming on his cheeks, crawling down his neck. Well, that was quite the call-out, wasn’t it? Rhys swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut, fighting down the embarrassment. “I-I, um, I don’t know what you’re t-talking about,” Rhys muttered to the lockers, shuddering bodily when he received an answering chuckle.

“Sure you don’t,” he murmured, and then that big, strong chest was pressing against Rhys’ back, crowding him closer to the lockers. He couldn’t help the way he arched his hips back when he felt the man’s half-hard cock pressing against his ass, grinding against it shamelessly. The resounding growl he received was like hot fire licking at his every nerve, and then the man pushed _back_, making Rhys let out his own quiet whine.

“What’s your name, sweet cheeks?” As if to punctuate the pet name the stranger removed one of his hands from the lockers to grab a handful of Rhys’ ass, squeezing tight. Rhys arched under the touch, impressed with just how large this man’s hands actually were, easily holding an entire cheek in one grasp.

“_Rhys_,” he whispered breathlessly, gasping when the hand on his ass snaked around to cup the front of his shorts. He hadn’t realized how hard he was until now, the hand at his crotch applying firm pressure to the curve of his cock. He mewled and rolled his hips into the touch, his own hands finding purchase on the lockers to help steady himself. “What about you?”

The man rumbled a deep chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest where it was pressed up against Rhys’ back. “Call me Jack,” this man, _Jack_, murmured as he pressed the heel of his palm against the head of Rhys’ dick. Rhys’ mouth hung open on a silent moan, and when he ground his ass back against Jack’s hips again he was fully hard.

From what Rhys could tell between layers of shorts and underwear, Jack’s cock was _big_. It felt thick where it had nestled between the firm globes of Rhys’ ass, all snug like it belonged there. Rhys reached his flesh hand back to get a feel, a desperate puff of air leaving his lungs at just how amazing it felt, hot and heavy against his palm. Jack groaned as he started mouthing at Rhys’ neck, the hand that had been at Rhys’ crotch snaking up his front.

Rhys gasped as Jack’s fingers pinched each nipple in passing, twisting the little nubs to get them perking beneath Rhys’ shirt. Without much prompt other than the fingers against his lips Rhys opened his mouth, letting the fingers slide in with ease. He laved at them, sucking and licking like they were some kind of treat. The attention seemed to spur Jack on, the gentle mouthing at his neck turning into rough sucking and biting.

Jack pulled his fingers from Rhys’ mouth, and the younger man made sure to give a firm suck on the way out so there was a resounding _‘pop’ _that followed. Jack gave one last bite to the spot he’d been worrying at, and judging by the throbbing in Rhys’ neck he’d left a pretty good mark. Before Rhys knew it Jack’s hand was dipping below the waistband of his shorts, slick fingers prodding at his hole.

“W-Wait!” Rhys gasped, glancing at Jack over his shoulder. “What if someone—,” his protests were cut short as a finger pressed inside, his words tapering off into a startled moan. Jack’s free hand pushed off the lockers and clamped down over Rhys’ mouth, a fresh wave of arousal pulsing through the younger man’s cock.

“A-tut-tut-tut,” Jack scolded as he slowly worked his finger in and out of Rhys’ tight walls until he could get it buried to the third knuckle, “a noisy mouth like that and we’ll get caught. Don’t want that, now do we, _Rhysie_?”

Rhys shuddered at the nickname, letting his head fall back onto Jack’s shoulder while the older man worked a thick finger in and out. Rhys felt like his body was on fire, the tension of possibly getting caught setting his nerves on edge. He felt like all of his senses were heightened, each drag of Jack’s finger sending sparks of pleasure up his spine. This was so incredibly dangerous, letting a stranger have his way with him in a _very_ public place. If Fiona found out she’d _kill_ him.

A second finger pressed in, slowly, and Rhys couldn’t stop the muffled moan that escaped his lips. Jack squeezed his face harder in warning, causing Rhys to snap his eyes shut in hopes of focusing on keeping himself quiet. It was going to be difficult, Rhys was a rather loud… _Lover_. He’d never been able to keep his mouth under control, always shouting and moaning and _begging_. He’d gotten more than a few complaints from Vaughn when they’d dormed together, and then again later in life when they got their first apartment. Thankfully, Rhys had his own apartment now and could be as loud as he wanted, neighbors be damned.

Rhys wandering thoughts had distracted him enough to keep himself quiet until Jack curled his fingers in such a way that had Rhys shouting through pursed lips into Jack’s hand, hips arching back for more. Jack only chuckled and nipped at the throbbing skin of the mark he’d left.

“You like that?” Jack whispered in his ear, repeating the action. Rhys’ knees went weak, another strangled sound escaping him as pleasure tore through his body. He didn’t hesitate nodding his head at the question, because _fuck yeah_ he liked that. Jack pressed him tighter against his chest, easily supporting Rhys in his weakened state. The sheer strength of the man was enough to make Rhys hot all over, allowing himself to sag into Jack’s hold. One of his hands came up to grasp at the forearm of the hand that was covering his mouth, fingers digging into tan skin. His cybernetic hand reached back and grasped one of Jack’s strong thighs, trying to find something, _anything_ to ground himself.

After Jack finished scissoring Rhys open and absolutely _wrecking_ him with the attention he was giving to his prostate, he pressed in a third finger. The stretch made Rhys clench tight around the intrusion, but Jack was cooing in his ear immediately.

“It’s all right, baby. Come on, relax for daddy.” Yup, that was good. Rhys instantly relaxed against Jack’s chest, embarrassed that his daddy kink could get him so loose like that. He could feel the front of his shorts growing damp from the ample amount of precum leaking from the head of his cock and damn if it didn’t make Rhys feel dirty in the hottest way.

Jack worked Rhys open with his fingers, twisting and curling them in ways that had the younger man arching and clawing at Jack desperately. The prep was too fast but Rhys understood the hurry, what with the threat of someone potentially walking in at any moment looming over their heads. He didn’t want to get arrested today, thank you. Rhys’ shorts were around his ankles in a flash, Jack manhandling him until he was turned around, finally facing Jack for the first time.

Rhys was instantly lost in Jack’s heterochromatic eyes, not paying much attention to Jack pulling his dick out or spitting in his hand, although it did get his attention when he saw the movement of Jack stroking his cock out of the corner of his eye. Rhys glanced down and let an unabashed whine escape his lips at the sight. Jack’s cock was big, just like the rest of him, _thick_ and _long_ and probably anything Rhys could ever ask for and more.

Rhys had a pretty dick, he knew that. It was pink and smooth and he kept himself nice and groomed, not a hair in sight. He’d gotten lots of compliments on it from a number of boyfriends and even one night stands; to be honest, he was kind of into the praise he’d get about how perfect it was. But _Jack_? Jack’s dick was downright _gorgeous_, but in such a different way from Rhys’. It was a shade darker than the rest of him and there was a thick tuft of hair at the base that Rhys just wanted to run his fingers through and— oh, _oh_ he was actually running his fingers through it, having reached his hand forward to touch without even realizing it. The head was fat and looked like it would feel great on his tongue, or tugging at his tight hole. He wanted it, _needed_ it, and he tried to convey that to Jack as best he could when he met his gaze again.

Jack waisted no time, gathering Rhys up in his arms like it was nothing and shoving him up against the lockers. Rhys wrapped his legs around Jack’s hips and his arms around his shoulders, amazed at how effortlessly Jack seemed to handle him. He might not have been as big as some of the guys in his group of friends but Rhys was realizing he was definitely just as strong.

With one arm around Rhys’ waist and the other guiding his cock, Jack carefully fucked himself into Rhys with steady thrusts. It wasn’t slow by any means, and it _hurt_, but Rhys bit his lip and held onto Jack’s shoulders for dear life, promising himself that once he got past that initial stretch it would feel _amazing_. Jack’s free hand hiked Rhys’ tank top up all the way to his shoulders, deft fingers touching everywhere they could reach. Rhys leaned back a little so he was less hunched over Jack’s form, giving the older man a good view of what he had to offer.

Jack grinned at him predatorily, eyes hungry as they drank in every inch of pale, tattooed skin. Rhys was panting and his cheeks were flushed as he watched Jack appreciate every part of him, the sting of Jack’s cock slowly subsiding. He gave Jack an innocent yet suggestive look from beneath his lashes, lips parted as small little sounds started slipping out, pain getting fucked out into pleasure.

“_Jack_,” Rhys whispered around a moan, cock twitching between them at the way Jack’s eyes darkened at the sound of his name. The wandering hand on Rhys’ body shot up to cover his mouth again before Jack picked up the pace, strong hips arching up to meet Rhys’ feverishly. Rhys felt like he was losing his goddamn mind and he _loved_ it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been fucked this hard, _if_ he’d ever been fucked this hard before. Surely not, Jack was a _machine_.

The sound of their hips slapping together was starting to echo through the locker room and tears were prickling at the corners of Rhys’ eyes, his breaths coming as short, deep puffs of air through his nose. Jack shifted his stance a little wider mid-thrust, and when he plunged back in Rhys was shouting into his hand, head banging against the lockers from the power of Jack’s thrust with a loud, metallic clang. Rhys dug his fingers into Jack’s shoulders and pulled the larger man closer to his chest, every few thrusts striking his prostate with such precision he almost thought Jack was aiming for it.

Jack leaned close to his ear with a groan, fingers pressing into Rhys’ jaw with bruising force. “You gonna come for daddy?” Jack growled, although it was more of a statement, a command than a question. Rhys nodded his head mutely, eyes rolling into the back of his skull as more and more thrusts assaulted the bundle of nerves that had him arching off the lockers.

“Go ahead, touch yourself, baby. Daddy can’t help ‘cause _someone’s_ too noisy,” Jack teased, grunting as his hips lost their rhythm for a moment when Rhys clenched down on him.

Rhys dislodged his flesh hand from Jack’s shoulder and wrapped it around his cock, moaning loud enough that Jack shoved his head into the lockers by the hand on his mouth. It hurt a little, having his head bang up against the hard metal surface not once but _twice_, but having Jack dominate him like that was way too hot for him to care. Rhys stroked his cock to the quick pace of Jack’s hips, ankles hooking together behind Jack’s back as his thighs squeezed the man’s strong hips tighter and tighter.

Jack rocked him with another one of those powerful thrusts that had Rhys’ hitting his head on the lockers again and that sent him over the edge, back arching in a pretty curve as he came between them, jaw slack against Jack’s hand in a silent scream. Somewhere, Rhys heard Jack grunting, “son of a _taint_,” though it sounded very far away, most likely due to the blood rushing in his ears. Then Jack was pulling out, bumping his dick right up against Rhys’ knuckles where he was still holding his hard, spent cock loosely.

Rhys was surprised he had enough brain function to understand what he needed to do, quickly stroking letting go of his own cock to grab Jack’s. He gave a few quick, firm strokes, twisting his wrist when he got to the head, until Jack was coming with a groaned curse. Rhys frowned as all of it landed on him, adding to his own release that was painted across his abdomen and fist. He let go of Jack’s cock and lowered his legs from around his waist, legs wobbly beneath him. Jack helped steady him before he let the slighter man go, pulling his t-shirt off to help Rhys wipe himself clean.

Well, Jack really did all the work cleaning him up, Rhys too lost gawking at Jack’s now-bare chest. His abs were just as magnificent as Rhys hoped they would be, cut like chiseled marble. He was only able to tear his eyes away when Jack grasped his chin gently, forcing his attention back up to his eyes. Rhys blinked in confusion and swallowed the nervous lump in his throat. Jack had already tucked himself away and pulled his shorts up, leaving Rhys the only one naked from the waist-down.

“You got a number I can reach you at, pumpkin?” Jack was giving him that same cocky grin he’d been wearing on the gym floor, toothy and sly.

Rhys nodded dumbly, jumping as he heard the locker room door fly open. He scrambled to pull his shorts up as fast as possible, glad that Jack’s hulking frame hid him from whoever had walked in. He straightened out his shirt and his hair as he tried to ignore the heat in his cheeks.

“Um, yeah,” Rhys cleared his throat when it cracked embarrassingly, “one sec.” Rhys turned back to his locker, this time _actually_ getting it open, and pulled out his duffel bag. He tried not to shudder too much as Jack took a step closer to him, shrouding him with his large body. Rhys rummaged through his bag as quick as he could, pulling out a pen and ripping off a piece of his copy of his gym contract. He quickly scrawled his number onto the scrap of paper and turned back around, startled by how close Jack was.

“Here you go,” Rhys murmured, voice way too high pitched. Jack let out a thundering laugh and snatched the paper from Rhys’ fingers, looking down at the neat little numbers.

“See ya ‘round, kitten.” Jack placed a fleeting kiss on his cheek before he turned and walked away, throwing out his soiled shirt in one of the garbage cans on his way out.

Rhys stood there in awe for a few moments, unable to wrap his head around what just took place. The longer he dwelled on it, the more lightheaded he got, so instead he shoved his water bottle into his duffel bag, zipped it up, and hurried out of the locker room without another thought.

On his way out he passed Fiona, who must have just been finishing up her work out since she was heading towards the women’s locker room. She gave him a confused look but Rhys refused to meet her gaze.

“I thought you left already?” Fiona asked, making a confused sound in the back of her throat when Rhys didn’t even stop in his stride past her. Rhys didn’t even really hear what she said, ducking his head so she couldn’t see the blush on his cheeks.

“See you later, Fi!” Rhys called absently as he raised his hand in a half-assed wave goodbye, swinging the door open dramatically as he exited the building.

Yeah, Rhys was pretty sure he was going to like his new gym membership.

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm going to leave this as a one-shot right now because I have another fic I'm writing and another one on the back burner lol. I might choose to continue with it at some point since I've already got some ideas brewing, so if anything I'll just release them as parts instead of chapters... Let me know what you think!
> 
> Catch me on twitter: @dopplegangbangs


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